


Just Another Kiss

by tbazzsnow (Artescapri)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Boyfriends, Chicago is damn cold, Chicago trip, Fluff, Hockey game, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Trip to America, baz in a beanie, minor anxiety on Simon's part, puffy coats (again)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow
Summary: A one shot where SImon and Baz visit Penny during her term abroad in Chicago. Fluff, boyfriends, arctic weather, and an unexpected kiss-cam.





	Just Another Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift fic for @penpanoply! Here's the giggling, laughing kiss you requested (just more of the nervous kind rather than simply amused!)

>  

 

**Simon**

I’m glad Baz insisted we visit Penny over the holiday break. 

I’d been missing her this term but I didn’t want to suggest making the trip. I know Baz treasures time with his family, especially with the little ‘uns. He’ll never admit it, of course, but I’ve seen how he is with them and how they adore him. 

And I’d wanted him to have a chance to get some rest over the holiday. He’s been stressed about uni. I don’t know why he’s so bloody driven to finish early. 

I do know why. He’s Baz Pitch and he likes doing those sorts of impossibly challenging things. 

So, it came as a complete surprise on Boxing Day, when Baz took me for a drive, that we ended up at the airport.  
  
He’d packed my bags in secret, the wanker. Worked it all out with Penny, he had. 

We’ve been in Chicago for a week now. It’s fucking cold. I don’t think Baz thought that part through very well. The timing of this visit. 

The snow is pretty and the frozen lake is impressive but the wind is a fucking nightmare. 

Even I’m cold. 

I don’t know how Baz is managing. Well, he turns the heat all the way up in our hotel room, piles on enough extra blankets that we practically can’t turn over in the bed, and plasters himself to me every night. 

It would be almost comical if it weren’t so bloody arctic here. Baz actually broke down after the first day and bought a real winter coat at one of those outdoorsy type stores. I’ve been trying to get him to buy one forever but he’s always just sneered and growled that he wouldn’t ever wear a puffy coat. 

He’s wearing a puffy coat now. It’s black, of course, and expensive and posh and all that rot. He looks just as good in it as he does in his leather jacket, which is downright infuriating, if you ask me. 

Not that anyone is asking me. 

He looks so damn enticing in it, with his stylish black beanie. Baz was the only one of us who ever looked good in the bloody boater hats we had to wear at Watford, so the sight of him in a beanie is almost more than I can tolerate. 

I want to snog him senseless. 

Which I can’t quite do in below zero weather on a random street in Chicago, now can I? I mean, I suppose I could, but Baz and I don’t really do public displays of affection. 

Not that we’re not affectionate. I’ve discovered Baz is a keen cuddler and has no reservations about being the small spoon when we snuggle in bed (the wings make me the default big spoon) (I don’t care) (I like the sensation of having him in my arms). 

Penny would disagree, I’m certain. She says we’re far too affectionate in the public spaces of our flat but I don’t consider the flat public. It’s home. 

But we don’t do much more than hold hands in public or a quick peck on the cheek when I walk him to class or he meets me for lunch. 

It’s probably a good thing. It’s hard to stop snogging Baz once I’ve started. 

He’s got a similar problem. He starts kissing my moles and there’s no end to it. 

I like that. 

We’ve got two more days before we go home. We’ve been to every museum, I think. Baz is daft for museums. I think he would have found more to visit, if we’d had the time. 

He’s just like Penny. Micah and I finally gave up and found an unoccupied bench at every place we went and let the two of them wander. And bicker. 

We’ve had Chicago pizza and ribs. We’ve gone to the top of that bloody tower with the glassed-in ledge. 

Made me queasy it did and I’m the one with the bloody wings.  

We’re at an ice hockey game tonight. Micah’s idea. I know there are a few teams back home but I’ve never seen a match. Or a game. Or whatever they call it. 

I’m in awe of these players. 

I’m shit at skating. Baz took me once before Christmas. To the Tower of London ice rink, because he’s such a melodramatic git. I loved it. Even though I kept falling down. It was stunning with the Tower as a backdrop. 

And Baz’s hands on my hips to keep me steady. I’m not sure if I kept losing my balance because I’m shit on skates or because I kept getting distracted by Baz’s proximity. 

Probably both. 

Baz was quite keen to come to this game tonight. He’d probably be good at this too, the tosser. I don’t think there’s anything he’s not good at. 

I don’t know how they do it. Move so fast, stay so balanced and chase that tiny puck around the rink. It’s graceful and ruthless and fast . . . 

Fuck, Baz _would_ be bloody well-suited for it. Except he’d object to the helmets mucking up his posh hair. 

I notice the cameras during the first period break. There are event staff with bloody huge cameras wandering through the stands. They stop every so often and train the lens on the crowd.

“What’s up with the cameras, Micah?” 

He turns to look in the direction I’m pointing. “Oh, you know. Shooting live footage of fans during the commercial breaks and between periods. We might see ourselves on the jumbotron tonight.” 

I’ve never actually been to a live professional sporting event before. Not much of a chance when I was in the homes. 

The cameras seem to focus mainly on attractive girls drinking beer, cute little kids, or older couples who are oblivious to the fact they are being filmed and projected onto the big screen. 

It isn’t until the second period that the kiss-cam makes an appearance. 

“Alright, Pen, maybe this’ll be our chance to do a movie make-out scene on that big screen.” Micah laughs as he points at the huge video feed above us. It’s an older couple, laughing and exchanging a kiss. 

I feel a rush of apprehension tingle through my skin. There’s no chance they’d aim the camera at us, is there? Not two blokes. 

But what if they do?

I can’t imagine Baz would be fine with it. He’s so prickly about his privacy. Would I have to kiss him on camera? Would he kiss me? Would it be better to laugh it off? 

I’m making myself anxious just thinking about it. My heart’s beating faster. I don’t like attention on me like that. Never have. Hated it at Watford.

This would be worse. 

The camera picks out a young couple. They laugh too and enthusiastically kiss each other. I swear I see the bloke’s tongue. 

I rub my hands on my jeans. My palms are sweating. Baz gives me a look, eyebrow up. “You alright, Simon?” 

I’m not going to talk about this with Baz. It’s stupid. There’s no chance of it happening and I’m getting myself all worked up for nothing. 

He takes my hand. His touch calms me a bit and I lean into him. 

And that’s when it happens. 

“Simon!” Penny’s high-pitched yelp from Micah’s side jolts me. She points to the screen. “Look!” 

Fuck. The camera is centered on me and Baz.

  _Fuck._  

I can literally see myself blush on the giant screen. My moles are the size of dinner plates. I look like a complete nightmare. 

Baz, as usual, looks fucking perfect. Not a hair out of place. One eyebrow up and a hint of a smirk on his face. 

The crowd’s cheering. I’m the worst under pressure like this. I can’t help it. I can feel the nervous laughter bubbling up and then I’m giggling uncontrollably. I can’t keep a straight face and I know I’m squeezing Baz’s hand far too hard.

“Simon.” Baz’s voice seems to be coming from a distance, even though he’s right next to me.

I turn to look at him and find the calm in his deep grey eyes. 

“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”

I gape at him. “You . . . you’d do it?” 

His eyebrow arches higher. “Snog my delectable boyfriend in front of a few thousand people? Why the hell not?” And then he’s doing it. He’s snogging me senseless and it’s all up on a big screen for the world to see. 

I hear a roaring in my ears and I’m not sure if it’s the blood rushing to my face or the crowd around us. 

Baz pulls back, smiling. He’s a bit flushed and I’m completely gobsmacked. I don’t dare look up at the screen. 

I struggle to find my words again. “I thought. . . I thought . . .” 

“Thought what?” 

“Thought you didn’t like public displays of affection?” 

Baz pulls on my hand to tug me closer to him. “I’m not a fan of them under usual circumstances. But I’m also disinclined to turn down an invitation to snog you, even if it’s in front of a thousand people.” He leans closer, his breath tickling my ear. “I’ve no objection to the world knowing you’re mine, Simon, and that I’m yours.” 

He leans back with an utterly self-satisfied expression but he’s still blushing.

 

**Baz**

I could tell Simon was getting agitated about something. When the kiss-cam lit on us I could see him start to panic. 

I know what he does when I get that way. It’s always been damn effective. 

I’m going to frame that photo Bunce took of us kissing on the big screen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from song by the same name by Smokey Robinson


End file.
